Only when people change @z-wantstowrite - Tumblr Blog

Wholesome!Gaz who has been excitedly planning your birthday party for weeks and is constantly asking about which foods to order and running decoration ideas by you, like an overbearing-but-well-intentioned wedding planner. You're aglow in all the attention, falling more in love with each thoughtful question he asks. Best of all, he insists that he loves this. "I never get to do low-stakes, feel-good planning," he explains. "It's always tactical shite on a heli, 10 minutes before we touch ground, with my captain's body odor making it hard to think."

But then a few days before the party, you overhear him on the phone with his new military friends. "Can't come out and drink this weekend," he tells them gruffly. "Nah, I wish." A pause, then his laughter. "Yeah, the old ball and chain. Y'know how it is."

The words don't just devastate you - they anger you. You've never known this man to be dismissive of your relationship, let alone to spew blatantly sexist platitudes.

You're icy with him for the rest of the evening as he begs you to tell him what's wrong, . You finally relent after going out for a drive to cool off. "How could you talk about me like that?" you ask him, mortified that tears are welling in your eyes. "I never asked you to plan this party. You know I wouldn't have cared if we celebrated my birthday on a different day so you could hang with your friends. I just - is that really how you feel about me?"

Gaz's unfairly adorable puppy dog eyes widen as he takes in what you're saying. "Oh, sweetheart, no no. Please don't - you're so right. I shouldn't have said that." He sighs, sounding disappointed in himself.

"I was just selected for a new task force and I'm the least experienced one. I know the captain, but not the other blokes. And us military types? We're dogs, love. Awful. It's either locker room talk and rude hand gestures, or silence and grunting." He tentatively sits on the couch and opens his arms to you, hoping you'll cuddle up next to him. You acquiesce, but now without a frown to let him know you wish his earnest apology wasn't working on you.

"You're better than that, Kyle," you tell him quietly.

"I am. You make me better than that." He kisses your hairline. "The promotion to this task force is the best thing that's happened in my career, and I am terrified about fucking it up. But that shouldn't come at your expense. Tomorrow at work, I'm showing everyone the photo of you I keep in my vest and letting them know how much I love you."

A gasp escapes you. "What! Don't show them that."

He smirks. "Oh no, the one in my vest is from Joanie's cookout. The one I keep in my cap is what you're thinking of."

He's true to his word, boldly sharing his relationship status and bragging about your brilliance the next time he's with his team.

And that's how Gaz learns that Johnny has a common law marriage with his high school sweetheart, Simon has been in a long distance Internet relationship for multiple years with a bird he's never met, and Price is currently wooing a single mother he is determined to make his third wife.

====

If you're in the mood for something longer, may I interest you in 36,000 words of Gaz x f!Reader enemies to lovers? 😳

I don’t usually post on Tumblr but—

IF a machine has a CHILD’S soul and consciousness TRAPPED in them for whatever years, decades, that’s still a CHILD—!

#poppy playtime #fnaf fandom #fnaf #the prototype

Inspired by this

Gaz: *is upset he can’t produce slick*

Soap: At least Ghost can eat arse

Reader: I can suck cock

Price: *Physically chokes on his cigar*

Ghost: I wish to be transferred to a different team

#cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty fanfiction #141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #call of duty #john price #I can’t even remember writing this #Clearing out my drafts and stuff

ohclaire

nsfw mdni

Nikolai was a little left out last time… more suggestive than anything tbh

z-wantstowrite

atariixx

Reader who sketches their teammates but is too nervous to show them; said teammate proceeds to snoop and discovers a masterpiece

Kyle finds you curled in the corner of the rec room with what looks like to be a sketchbook hugged up to your chest. Your pen or pencil - whatever you were using, he couldn't tell - glided across the page with what looked like effortless ease.

As he approached, you immediately closed the book. "Don't look!" You protest weakly as you stand up and hold onto your sketchbook for dear life. Kyle raises his hands in a form of surrender.

"Okay, okay! Sorry, squirt." he tries to sooth you, but you huff and stomp away with a flustered expression.

That night, Kyle decides to snoop. He grabs your sketchbook and opens it to the dog-eared page. A portrait of himself stares back at him. You drew him.

It was far from perfect, but it was you. Every stroke of your pen, every mistake - it was all you. You drew him because you wanted to - because you found inspiration in him.

He went to sleep that night with a smile on his face and planning out how to get you all the tools you need to improve.

Simon sat next to you in the humvee, eyes glancing over at your sketchbook. He's seen you bring it everywhere you go, and today was no different.

You haven't clocked him staring yet, but you have glanced over at his features a few times. Peering over your shoulder, a messy sketch of Simon stares back at him. He thinks it's beautiful - even though his one eye is scribbled out in a frustrated response to imperfection.

He smiled to himself - something he rarely does - and he rested his hand on your thigh in silent encouragement. He could see your cheeks flush, but you didn't stop your sketching.

In fact, you draw a little heart in the corner of the page for his eyes only.

Price and Johnny were walking together after sitting with you in the mess, you having drawn something on two seperate pages of your notebook. They both decided to check it out, as you were practically staring at them both the whole time.

Quietly opening the door to your quarters, Johnny murmured: "aye, I see it." Your sketchbook, wide open on your bed for the world to see. Price walks over and examines the pages, but his eyes soften when he registers it's him and Johnny.

"Our bird drew us," Price had murmured with a smile. He picked up the sketchbook and showed Johnny. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Johnny nodded and leaned in closer to examine the pages. Imperfect, but so was everything in this world. What mattered was the effort.

After that, Johnny and Price would gift you new pens and notepads almost monthly.

The moral of the story is: everyone is learning and growing. Nobody is perfect. As someone who struggles with perfectionism, it pains me to see others get accused of either tracing, using AI, or copying others' work. Especially when they're close friends of mine.

Reminder: referencing isn't tracing. For us newer writers out there: em-dashes are a real thing. Just because you see one doesn't mean that AI generated it.

When drawing, yes: it will look wrong at first. It will look messy. It will look flat-out stupid at times. But that's the amazing thing about being human - we see these mistakes and we grow from them. We learn, we thrive. So what if you have to use a reference? Most professionals use references. It's normal - it's natural.

I will not tolerate mindless souls who shit on beginner artists and writers for no fucking reason. This is why people are discouraged from doing what they love. If you are one of these people - kindly unfollow me. You are not welcome here.

@a-gh0st-d00dles ily bestie keep drawing

libdibs

If You Were a Fictional Character

I've seen a few moots doing this and it looked fun!

* Make this picrew of yourself

* Take this uquiz (How Fandom Would See You If You Were A Fictional Character)

...yeah that seems about right 😅🫠

Not sure who's done this already so tagging the besties @thetumblingmoron @redheadsramblings @woundedsoul12 @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @aurorabiggs @thepalehorsevictoria @kiir-do-faal-rahhe and anyone else who would like to play!

madstronaut

I have been away for a bit and neglected many a fun tag game that is now months past so to make amends, behold a new completely optional tag game

I put in all that hard work for 18 min only to get the results below...

stellewriites

thanks for the tag mads!! this was a fun one

damn wth did character me do??

npt: @listen-to-the-inner-walrus @creatureapologist @xxdrixx @glenpowelljr @tempfrangit @w00lie @voregeoisiee @fatagenda @ohlawdthebirds @lewispullmanofficial @lewmagoo @troutonduty @femalefemur

voregeoisiee

Thank you Stelle! I'd be in love with your character btw

Tagging: @400badrequest @3amfanfiction @red5cars @buginabucket @sewerwitchlove and anyone else that wants to do it :)

red5cars

thank you jd! apparently i got that dog in me

npt: @fulltacs @basementcoffee @beloveds-embrace @izzabela and anyone else who’d like to do it :3

basementcoffee

lmao well i love onions so

npt: @biochippd @553580 @sentientcave @dragonnarrative-writes @tenthmoon @saintquincy @beebymoonlight

saintquincy

it took me an embarrassingly long amount of time figuring out how to get the pictures in this post...

@beebymoonlight @theorist-fox @meepingmeep @peachil + you know anyone who wants to 🙃

peachil

Well damn…

@z-wantstowrite + anyone who’d like to✨

z-wantstowrite

IN OTHER WORDS— I’m Soap Mactavish 😭 Y’know what? Fair enough since I do make my OCs traumatised…

I— don’t have anyone to tag- so, free for anyone who sees

peculiargamerlady

Imagine...

your Call of Duty crush on the toilet struggling with the worst mushy gooey stanky eye-watering shit.

Do you still think they're attractive? Or did I ruin how you see them? 😈

*discreetly glances at your balls*

z-wantstowrite

I AM JUST CONCERNED TO YOUR THOUGHT PROCESS IN ‘WHY’ ASKING SUCH A QUESTION—

BUT NO, IT DID NOT!? SURPRISINGLY!? CONCERNINGLY!? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!? AND YOU!?

trust-is-a-dangerous-thing

Concept: You’re in the military, in a job that has you shipping out quite often, so you don’t exactly have the time to develop a real relationship with anyone. What you do have, though, is a deal with one of the other regulars at your local bar—an unspoken deal, but a deal nevertheless.

Whenever the two of you see each other at the bar, you know you’ll be going home together at the end of the night. It’s simpler and easier than dating someone, it gives you a fix whenever you’re horny, and—whether you want to admit it or not—it’s become a comforting routine, a break from all the pain and death that comes with your job. It’s nice.

You feel a little bad every time you ship out, leaving him for weeks at a time, but it’s not like there aren’t other people in that bar who could satisfy him—and sometimes when you get back, you don’t see him for weeks at a time either, so it’s not like he’s the only one who’s left alone. The only thing you know about each other are your names, yours given at the bar the second time you met, his panted into your ear the second round of the third time he took you home.

Simon, it was.

Neither of you ask the other where you’ve gone or why when you both come back. It’s not that kind of arrangement, so it’s none of your business. You never ask him to take off that odd mask he always wears either, the one he only pulls up to kiss or bite or fuck you with his tongue. That, too, is none of your business. Honestly, after the first couple months, it became part of his charm.

A few weeks ago you got transferred, though, to a team called Task Force 141—deadly, efficient, the best of the best from what you’ve heard. You’d be lying if you said that being transferred to that team didn’t stroke your ego just a bit. So you fly out, you get to the base, you’re introduced to your new captain, who introduces you to your new team.

You have to do a double take at first, you think you’re hallucinating—you realize that you’re not when he does the exact same thing, both of you clearly recognizing each other. Turns out, the man who’s been fucking you seven-ways-to-sunday every time you laid eyes on each other, is your new lieutenant. He went by “Ghost,” apparently.

You were either extremely lucky, or very very unfortunate.

z-wantstowrite

You know, this could be a joke for Simon and Reader like they’re at the bar (team doesn’t know about them btw).

John: “So lass/lad, you seeing anyone?”

Reader: “Yeah, he’s right over there.” *points to the bar and heads over*

Johnny: “How’s your bird, L.t?”

Simon: “She’s fine, she just came in.” *goes to where reader is and places a hand on her waist.*

John is baffled and staring, Johnny spat out his drink and coughs, Kyle is laughing in disbelief and shock.

luna-azzurra

Dear Writers who can’t stop comparing themselves

Me, you, and probably every writer ever...

☽ Someone else’s success is NOT your failure. Just because they got there fast doesn’t mean you’re slow, you’re just on your own weird little timeline, doing your weird little writer things, and that’s fine. You're not late, you're just... you. And that’s more than enough.

☽ You don’t see the mess behind the masterpiece. That perfect book? It probably had 49 drafts, six meltdowns, two deleted subplots, and at least one sob session over a blank page. You’re not broken for struggling, you’re just in the middle of the part they edited out.

☽ The age thing is IRRELEVANT. Some people write bestsellers at 19. Others don’t write anything until they’re 39. Or 57. Or 83. That doesn’t make it less magical. It just makes it yours. (Seriously, google late-blooming authors, it’s comforting as hell.)

☽ If you’re comparing your draft to a finished book... Please, stop, NOW. That author had editors, proofreaders, beta readers, deadlines, caffeine-induced panic, probably a spreadsheet or two. You’re not comparing apples to apples. You’re comparing a soft, screaming baby draft to a book that went through glam boot camp.

☽ Your voice isn’t supposed to sound like theirs, I mean it’s not supposed to sound like anyone else. That’s the point. You don’t need to be the next [I dont know, J.K.R or Stephen King (Fun fact=I love both)...]. You just need to be the first you.

☽ Your writing might be exactly what someone else needs. Like, exactly. The right story at the right moment can feel like a lifeline, so don’t keep yours locked away because you think it’s not “enough.” It is, you are.

☽ You’re not going to grow by tearing yourself down. Being cruel to yourself doesn’t make you a better writer, it just makes the work heavier to carry. Be kind to yourself, especially on the days the words won’t come (And they will come, I promise).

☽ Someone out there probably reads your stuff and goes: “Damn. I wish I could write like that.” You might never know who, but they exist and they mean it.

gazlightmehardergazzy

Gaz feels alone.

Must be nice. Soap's got Ghost hooked around his pinky finger. Price won't say anything, but it's obvious the ever so wolfish Nikolai's got a hold on him.

Laswell and her cheeky wife. Alex was down bad for Farah at first glance. Rudy couldn't get Alejandro off of him for more than a second. Holidays, sunsets, weekends when he actually has time off: All he sees are happy operators running circles in love. No one ate alone or spared a day without sending sappy text messages, responding to familiar calls.

All except for Gaz. It's...kinda lonely. No one sends him funny memes unless it's in the group chat. No one to sit in silence together, looking at the waves of the ocean at sunrise. He's had a decent amount of years in the PMC: his own car, his own house, his own stacks of dough. All that and no one to share it with. No one to spoil and do all the foolish things that he sees bring a tooth-rotting satisfaction to everyone in the task force.

He wonders when he'll ever get to experience not being alone. To actually be in love. Maybe to have a sweetheart's smiling face serve as the lock screen to his phone.

But these days, it feels more like an if. His last birthday quickly passes him by. The holidays. The dreaded Valentine's Day, and he can't stand the smell of chocolates and flowers radiating throughout the base.

Perhaps he really was meant to be alone. What was the point in getting his hopes up.

Yet he still sleeps in his king-sized bed, one arm reaching out to the other side as if he can grasp at a phantom lover's fading warmth.

z-wantstowrite

MOVE! IM HERE! IM HERE MOVE!

goatgoesmbe-deactivated20250814

Ive always been loyal to PUBG mobile- should i switch too CODm?

z-wantstowrite

You can make the boys dance, do silly emotes once you get their skins-

I have a Gaz skin, love it, love him, and I make him do little dances when I get a new emote. Ballerina, breakin’ it down, it’s entertaining to watch.

goatgoesmbe-deactivated20250814

Is there this thing like— if your main got hurt, they'll grunt 🧍

coz if so, i like to do it on purpose to hear him moan, like with early update of genshin-

z-wantstowrite

*breathes in* In the chat, you can make them say lines- I have abused “Well done” with Gaz and Price so hard that my team got so annoyed with me.

And when someone else plays as Gaz or any of the boys, I say ‘Thank you’ and let me tell you— when they said ‘Not a problem’ orgasm

They do make noises when they get hurt, though I panic most of the time when I do so I don’t fully hear what noises they make- 🥺 (I don’t like them getting hurt, hence I stopped using them as mains😭)

goatgoesmbe-deactivated20250814

Ive always been loyal to PUBG mobile- should i switch too CODm?

z-wantstowrite

You can make the boys dance, do silly emotes once you get their skins-

I have a Gaz skin, love it, love him, and I make him do little dances when I get a new emote. Ballerina, breakin’ it down, it’s entertaining to watch.

goatgoesmbe-deactivated20250814

If they kill Gaz in MW IV

I will... Do things... 👁️👁️ I swear-

z-wantstowrite

If they do that to husband Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick- I’m becoming Odysseus from EPIC and killing all the “suitors” (gaming developers).

nosimpincurly

You’re not depressed. You just need $250,000 in your bank account.

catherinebunnington

Reblog to materialize $250,000 in prev's bank account

gazstations

After a hot second, we have the next part of the serial killer au

Will probably make the next parts longer??? These were just little drabbles to get the vibe. But now it's getting into it. Hehe.

TW: mentions of dead bodies???

You were going to do it.

You were halfway across the yard.

Johnny's reaction never left you, and now you were actually curious. What was in Price's workshop? You never bothered to go back there. It was a trek across the yard, and someone was usually occupying your time. You had four doting men. It was hard to get alone time.

Now, you were noticing little things. Like how they never left you alone at the house. They claimed it was for your protection, but maybe you should've paid attention.

Hell, it didn't even have to be dead bodies. They were hiding something, if Johnny's nervous posture was anything to go by. And it bothered you. Surprises were one thing. But it was apparently 4 against 1, and you just felt left out.

And maybe you had a bit of main character energy. You wanted to be the one to figure shit out. Though, a lot of the time, it was the side characters that did all the work. The main character just took credit for the plot.

John was taking his afternoon bear nap, Kyle was in the shower, Johnny was out getting food. Simon? Well, maybe you should've paid a bit more attention to that one.

You put your hand on the door to the workshop, frowning when you saw there was a keypad lock. Wow, John must've been really worried about the birds stealing his wood. There really was nothing else out here.

A large hand enclosed around your shoulder. "Luv," Simon's voice rang out. You stiffened. "Wantin' to explore, eh?"

"Just curious is all," you deflated like a kid caught with sweets. Getting caught by either John or Simon was never a good feeling. Their disappointed stares killed you.

"Don't need to be curious about that," Simon said lowly.

"Why not?" You questioned.

"C'mon, luv. Johnny brought grub."

You blew out air in exasperation. You hated being ignored. Simon was good at it. Not answering questions. It made you want to wring his neck sometimes.

"Johnny was right. You do have dead bodies back there," you declared, and you watched Simon pause.

You were baiting him. He didn't have to know that Johnny didn’t actually say anything. Sorry, Johnny. But someone had to be the fall guy.

"He said what?" Simon's voice was calm but definitely had an edge.

You rose an eyebrow. Simon looked... apprehensive, maybe. You saw the faintest droop of his lip. Now, that really was interesting. You had caught him off guard. And he didn't just do one of his amused snorts and carry on.

No, he paused.

You were really locked in now.

But so was he as he crossed the yard, leaving you behind.

z-wantstowrite

Simon probably: *bursts into the room* JOHNNY— YOU TOLD HER ABOUT THE BODIES!?

Johnny: Wait- what?

Price jolts from his nap while Kyle tumbles down the stairs in nothing but a towel and a few soap bubbles.

Price and Kyle: YOU DID WHAT!?

Johnny having a mental crises trying to remember when he told reader

Reader in the background evilly cackling because they outed themselves because she threw Johnny under the bus.

gazstations

Part four of my serialkiller!141 au

TW: Sexual implications

"Like this?"

"Yes. Make it more natural."

"Ah think ah 'ave a cramp."

"Suck it up."

That was usually how your times with Johnny went. He was your test dummy for scenes. You always had an idea of how you wanted characters to be positioned, but you needed the visual aid. Just to be sure. Why was it harder to write a character standing or moving than it was a fighting scene? You could never figure that out.

"Can ah put you in the positions now, doe?"

You looked up at Johnny's boyish grin and raised an eyebrow. He was never shy about his sexual libido, but you were already exhausted from a moment you had with Simon and Kyle last night. You were pretty sure Johnny was still petty as Price had him go run some errands with him.

You didn't miss the way they never returned with groceries or anything, though. But you never brought it up. Ignorance was bliss, and curiosity always killed the cat. So you avoided it.

"Behave, MacTavish," you chided.

"Dinnae want tae."

You sighed.

"Your boner is ruining my thinking."

Johnny smiled wickedly. "Tha's the plan."

You really put yourself in this position. You were the one who sought him out to be your model. You could've picked Kyle, but he was also on a weird horny streak as of late. The two men were amped up for whatever reason.

John and Simon seemed to disappear more. Most often into Price's workshop, especially in the evening. You had been pondering for days on what was so important back there.

But every time you thought about checking it out, Simon always somehow appeared and herded you somewhere else.

"What's in the workshop?" You asked bluntly, changing the subject.

Johnny was silent for a long moment.

"You guys have dead bodies back there or something?"

It was a joke. That's all it was. You were a writer. A small, off-limits workshop really screamed murder scene or sex dungeon. And you knew if it was the latter than they would be inviting you in. They loved playing with you.

You didn't realize how ironic that comment was.

The color drained from Johnny's face.

And you thought that was interesting.

z-wantstowrite

Reader if she finds out: “How could you-”

141 ready to knock her out: “Love, we can explain”

Reader: “—HIDE all these writing material from me!” *is chill, slightly disturbed and perhaps offended, with the fact they’re murderers but anyways-* “I thought we had something special!” *storms back into the house*

141: *Baffled, confused, amused and perhaps horny*

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